


Peachy Fuzz

by mediocrityatbest



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Dukexiety - Freeform, M/M, Romantic Dukexiety, prompt fill from my tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23481742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediocrityatbest/pseuds/mediocrityatbest
Summary: Remus really needs to get better at cards so that this doesn't happen so often.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders
Comments: 2
Kudos: 143





	Peachy Fuzz

Remus’ head connected with the wall before bouncing off. If it wasn't so attached to his neck, it would have bounced away like a ping pong ball. Sometimes people described being hit hard as feeling their heads rattle, but that's what bones do, not heads. No, Remus felt his brain slosh around inside his skull and is reminded, just for a moment, of the broth he fed Roman when he was sick that made him because he was lactose intolerant.

That also sloshed, coming back up.

Remus slumped, shoulders hunkering down to try to protect whatever they could. He would put his fists up to fight but that would only antagonize them and, while Remus did love being antagonistic, he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take and still be able to get up after.

He would like to be able to get up after.

“Come on, Duke,” said their ring leader, some Chad-type asshole that Remus had never met before tonight. “Don't tell me you've had enough already. We heard such great things about you.” That taunting smirk on his face was enough to make Remus straighten back up. Even if he wouldn’t be able to walk himself home tonight, some things just meant you had to take a stand.

“Go fuck yourself,” he said, and then spat the blood pooling on his tongue onto the man’s face. Or, he tried for the face. It missed and hit the man in the crotch and pissed him off so much that he rushed Remus again, his friends hooting and hollering for more bloodshed. Remus braced himself and took stock. If he could move his arm fast enough, he might be able to get one more hit on before he couldn't stand up.

The blow never came.

Remus looked up and saw an angel standing in front of him. (You know, if an angel wore ripped jeans and a baggy jacket and would ever give him the time of day. Remus wasn’t the type to get into the good graces of anybody, least of all an angel.)

"One against five isn't a very fair fight," he snarled. "Why don't we even the odds?" Remus watched with rapt attention as Virgil (it could  _ only be _ Virgil) punched the first man right in the jaw so hard it audibly clicked and he went out like a light. The man hit the ground like a corpse, completely limp, and Remus wondered with morbid fascination how many hits like that it took to kill someone. He wondered if the man would have a concussion. It would be well-deserved if he did.

With their ring leader taken so quickly and easily out of the games, the small mob lost interest in them and scattered the second Virgil's eyes swung up to look at them. It was like when you flipped up dog shit in the yard and the pill bugs sheltering underneath it all ran for cover, except a lot less cute and somehow, all the more romantic.

"Remus, are you okay?" Virgil dropped to his knees beside Remus (when had he fallen to the ground?), hands shaking as he cupped his face so gently Remus almost couldn't feel it. "Talk to me."

"Peachy fuzz as a baboon's ass," Remus chirped, grinning. He didn't even feel it when his lip split again and leaked blood down his chin.

"Glad to hear it." Virgil sighed. He dropped his gaze to the dirty cement beneath them. "Is this why you've been coming home with bruises?"

"Virge," he started. He didn’t know what he was going to say, if he was going to lie for the first time in his life or if he was going to redirect the conversation, but it didn’t really matter. Virgil cut in before he could find something to say that wasn’t just his name.

"Is this why you keep getting hurt? Is somebody out to get you? Who'd you piss off?"

"I cheated the bartender in a game of cards," Remus croaked. Honesty was the best policy, and Virgil wouldn’t drop this. Not after how spectacularly badly tonight had gone. "Took the piss right out of him."

"And you keep coming back to his bar?" Virgil asked, and though he sounded incredulous and resigned there was the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Well, somebody has to remind him how terrible he is," Remus said. Virgil huffed a laugh. It was quieter than Remus liked to hear it, but at least he wasn’t tearing Remus a new one.

"We have got to get you better at poker," he said.

"Aw," Remus whined, "you want me to stop cheating?"

"I want," Virgil muttered with a wicked grin, eyes flitting up to trap Remus in place (if he could have moved at all to begin with), "you to stop getting caught."

Remus howled out a laugh. "Oh, my spider, you are the only one for me." He giggled a little manically as he grabbed at Virgil's jacket and yanked him in for a salty kiss, blood and sweat smearing between them.

Virgil pulled back and licked his lips very deliberately. Remus could have swooned. Would have, maybe, but he was already feeling kind of swoony from the blow to his head. "Come on, stand up," Virgil said, rising to his full height and pulling Remus after him. His body shrieked like someone whose Mom just walked in on them having sex. He staggered slightly and Virgil, steady and dependable, caught him before he even realized he lost his balance.

Virgil held him at arm's length for a moment and stared at him, examining every inch of his body and finally coming to his eyes. "If they do it again," he ordered, "tell me."

"Are you getting possessive over little ole me?" Remus cooed, trying to ignore the build up of genuine, fond emotions over flowing at how much Virgil loved him.

"I am protective, not possessive," Virgil corrected him. "And if they ever lay a finger on you again, I will kill them myself, no questions asked."

Remus went weak at the knees, and he couldn't rightfully say if it was from the headache, his racing heart, or just how in love he was. Virgil steadied him again, wrapping one arm tightly around his waist to keep him up right.

"I think I'd like that," he said, leaning into Virgil's side more than he strictly had to. "You, me, and a killing spree to kick off the decade." Virgil laughed, a deeper, throaty sound. It was Remus’ favorite version of Virgil’s laugh.

"Let's get you home and get some tea first," he whispered. "We can talk about serial killings later."

Remus almost lost his legs again.


End file.
